


Crime and Punishment

by theprydonian_archivist



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Angst, Bloodplay, Bondage, Dark, Episode: s03e12 The Sound of Drums, M/M, Missing Scene, Sex, Torture, Year That Never Was
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-15 01:06:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7199231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprydonian_archivist/pseuds/theprydonian_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Master may have done terrible things, but the Doctor is hardly innocent. He’ll pay for his crimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crime and Punishment

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Prydonian](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Prydonian). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [The Prydonian collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/theprydonian/profile).

“I didn’t give you that body back so you could sit like a lump in the corner,” the Master growled. When the Doctor did not immediately respond, he was yanked roughly to his feet. So, it was to be that sort of day. The de-aging process had taken quite a bit out of him, and the Doctor stumbled across the lacquered floor. The Master carelessly shoved him towards one of the little round windows, hardly seeming to care when the Doctor careened into it. 

“It’s gorgeous,” the Master breathed as they stared out over one of the factories below. The Doctor’s beloved humans were down there, building a war machine. He could only hope he and Martha (mostly Martha if he were honest) would be in time to undo the damage. He was so caught up in his grief, it took a moment before he realized the Master was still speaking. “What’s the matter, Doctor? Where’s your enthusiasm? Aren’t you happy with your creation?”

“My… What?” The Doctor asked, voice rough with disuse. He’d hardly spoken to the Master, not that the other Time Lord cared. He drew the line here. “I had nothing to do with this mess.”

“Oh don’t be so modest,” the Master purred, draping an arm over the Doctor’s aching shoulders in a mockery of affection. “Oh sure, I put it together, but you paved the way.”

“Don’t kid yourself,” the Doctor replied tartly, having none of the Master’s games just then. He wasn’t sure what the Master was getting at, but it was pointless. It was just a charade. 

“You bloody liar!” the Master shouted, mood changing on a dime. There was no time even to brace himself before the Master’s fingers curled viciously in his hair, using it was a hand hold to shove at him. The Doctor’s head hit the window with a deafening crack, a pained groan slipping past his lips before he could quite help himself. “Honestly, did you think I wouldn’t know what you did?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” the Doctor gasped out, bracing himself though it hurt no less this time when the Master yanked on his hair. 

“Could it really be? Was it so insignificant to you, you’ve even forgotten to feel bad for it? Oh that… that is rich.” The Master’s eyes lit up dangerously, a manic smile curling on his lips as he singsonged, “You’ve gotten to be as bad as me. Worse even. I at least don’t pretend to be good. “

“I try to help people. You’re ruining their lives, their future,” the Doctor gritted out, trying to ignore the dread that curled in his stomach at the Master’s glee. 

“What? A single overstepping of your morals by one woman merited robbing an entire planet of what ought to have been the best time of their existence?” the Master laughed, and laughed. The fingers clamped so roughly in his hair abruptly released and the shift in weight landed the Doctor in a heap on the floor. He expected more violence, an escalation as the Master practically vibrated with his own insanity. The other Time Lord instead pulled back long enough to whisper to one of the guards. Afterward, he leaned down, palms on his thighs until they were nearly nose to nose. “Or have you managed to convince yourself you were doing them all a favor by deposing Harriet Jones. Bye bye humanity’s golden age. Not that I’m complaining. You made my taking over a piece of cake.”

The Doctor swallowed, trying to dredge up the emotions that had led him to taking her down, trying to convince himself that he was still right. It was a tall order after the wreckage he’d seen. The Master would’ve just killed her of course, and taken over anyway, but it had been just… the simplest thing for the other Time Lord to slip right into place, and perhaps that was the Doctor’s fault after all.

“What she did was heartless,” he argued, his voice sounding weak to his own ears. 

The Master’s open palm collided with his face, knocking him to the floor, “What you did was vindictive.”

The Doctor opened his mouth in protest, but the words caught in his throat as the door opened. The guard returned, but he was not alone. There was another carrying an ominous looking box, and between them they herded Martha’s family and Jack. None of them looked terribly well, but at least they were alive. 

“Never let it be said justice isn’t served in my dominion,” the Master sneered, tapping his foot as the only friends the Doctor had aboard the Valiant were lined up in front of them. “Now. Undress.”

The Doctor balked at that, not having the foggiest idea what the Master was getting at. He was already inwardly rattled, not sure his dignity could take any more battering right now. The hesitation didn’t go unnoticed, however, and he didn’t have to look up when he heard the sickening click of a gun being cocked to know it was pointed at Jack. “Don’t tell me you’re shy, Doctor? What’s more important to you? Your decency or Jack’s life?”

It was motivation enough, and the Doctor hung his head as he let his suit jacket fall to the ground, tired fingers immediately setting to work on his shirt buttons. He couldn’t save them if they died here, and Martha would never forgive him if he didn’t protect her family, so he gave up, wordlessly shedding his trousers. 

“The rest too, Doctor. My staff are not your maid service. They’re not going to go washing the blood off for you.” The Doctor’s hearts nearly stopped at the vague threat, but he shed his underwear too, and didn’t make a sound as the Master grabbed his arm in one hand, that box in the other. He bit his tongue as he was yanked up the stairs, cuffs pulled from the box to chain him to either side at the top until he was splayed helplessly out above Jack and the others. Maybe this was how to make it stop. Let the Master have his fun. At least if it was at the Doctor’s expense, it wasn’t at Jack’s just now. 

“That’s much better,” the Master hummed at the Doctor’s back. He couldn’t see his captor’s face, but he could almost hear the Master’s wolfish smile in his voice. “Now. Tell them what you did.”

He couldn’t help it. The Doctor balked at that, at the idea of explaining Harriet Jones in a way that would satisfy the Master. As he struggled to find words to sate the Master’s temper without alienating his friends, his captor’s patience ran out. There was no warning this time, only the deafening roar of gunfire and the thump of Jack’s body to the floor. 

“Ugh. Now we have to wait for him to get up again. Wouldn’t want him to miss this,” the Master huffed, fingers tapping a beat of four over and over against the railing the Doctor was cuffed to. Jack’s blood pooled on the floor at the foot of the stairs. Martha’s family stared in horror at his lifeless form, everyone waiting for the moment when he’d finally suck in another breath. The minutes stretched out, and though he knew better, some part of the Doctor was terrified this would be the time Jack didn’t get up. The seconds ticked on though, and finally Jack gasped, weakly pushing himself to his feet.

“Well? He’s up. Now get on with it,” the Master snarled impatiently, kicking the Doctor for good measure. 

There was no hesitation this time. He wouldn’t watch the Master shoot Jack again. Swallowing, the Doctor met no one’s eye as he admitted softly, “I caused the fall of Harriet Jones.”

“I don’t think they heard you,” the Master chided, gripping the Doctor’s hair and forcing his head back. He murmured threateningly against the shell of the Doctor’s ear, “Louder or I’ll shoot him again.”

There was nothing for it, but to repeat himself, loudly enough that everyone must have heard. Tish, Martha’s father… they looked more confused than anything, and he could feel the question in Francine’s eyes. It seemed after everything, some part of her still doubted him, and he wished he could explain, but he didn’t dare open his mouth. Jack looked stoic at least, but it made him feel no better. 

“Course it wasn’t to help me,” the Master clarified for him. He watched in relief as the suspicion left Martha’s mother’s face, but the success was short lived. The Master was quick to add. “You see, we Time Lords have a sense about things, how they’re supposed to be. The Doctor here knows Earth history better than anyone in the universe, what with you apes being his favorites and all. Harriet Jones? She was supposed to give you paradise, humanity’s golden age. Only, the Doctor robbed your planet of that on a personal vendetta.”

No, no. He couldn’t let them think it was that simple. He couldn’t. Before he could stop himself, he was loudly arguing, “She killed people who didn’t deserve it. They were running away.”

“How many innocent lives have you taken, Doctor? I bet you’ve lost count. She was trying to protect her people. You just didn’t like her methods, but you had no right.” The Master’s shoes clacked neatly across the floor as he lifted what looked to be a whip from the box he’d been carrying. “No right at all. You’re a traitor to your favorite race. I’d kill you if you weren’t so much fun. I’d imprison you, but… well a bit late for that. This is just going to have to do.”

The Master stood in the Doctor’s blind spot, so he didn’t see the first strike coming. It landed across the small of his back, biting into tender skin to the tune of a stunned gasp. The Master was shouting again, but not at him. “Are you watching, apes? I’m doing this for you. I’m giving you the justice you deserve, so I’d suggest you appreciate it.”

Three more strikes came in quick succession under the watchful eyes of his friends. The Doctor gritted his teeth and struggled to keep quiet. No need for them to suffer further. No need for them to know how badly this hurt. The last crack of the whip had drawn blood. He could feel it trickling down the knobs of his spine. 

“How many do you think I should do?” the Master asked conversationally. The question was punctuated by more strikes, leather cutting into his back and rear until the Doctor couldn’t help a small whimper from escaping. “One for every life you ruined? No... no I’d never be done and you’d probably regenerate, and I’m really not done with this face of yours yet. Just until I get bored, I think.”

The Master seemed content just to hear himself talk. He didn’t wait for the Doctor to reply before getting back to work in earnest, the whip striking him over and over again. Each lash was more painful than the last, and the Doctor could feel sweat and blood dribbling down his skin. There was no mercy, no reasoning with the Master when he was like this. The strikes came to the beat of the drums in his head, and soon the Doctor writhed in pain, panting as he tried to keep himself in check. 

“Leave him alone,” Jack was demanding. The Doctor thought he was, anyway. Everything paled to the agony he was in, and it wasn’t until there was another shot fired that the Doctor realized his friend had tried to come to his aid. 

“Didn’t anyone ever tell him it was rude to interrupt?” the Master snarled, striking the Doctor even more viciously than before. The whip landed across the Doctor’s shoulder blades, and he cried out helplessly, almost drowning out the Master barking orders. “Get them out of here. The show’s over.”

If he’d thought the removal of his friends meant anything good for him, the Doctor was wrong. The Master lost all restraint, and if the chained hadn’t been holding him, viciously cutting into his wrists, he’d have gone tumbling down the stairs. With no one to keep his composure for, he cried out, a low sob tearing from his throat. 

“Oh I like you like this,” the Master sneered, pausing to drag his fingers over the Doctor’s skin in a mockery of affection. The pads of the Time Lord’s fingers slid over welts and gashes until the Doctor trembled. “Not so high and mighty now. I should’ve thought of this ages ago.”

As much as there was no reason to keep his composure, there was no impetus to speak. The Doctor said nothing, hoping maybe if he just waited it out, the Master would grow bored of torturing him. A particularly vicious lash struck his back, and he could feel the blood ooze from it as the Master dropped his whip. “Do you admit it yet? Can you concede that I win?”

He had to draw the line somewhere. It was arbitrary, but the Doctor couldn’t bring himself to abandon hope. Not here. He only lifted his head, turning it to give the Master a dull look. 

“Oh, you’re no fun,” the Master complained, fingers dragging thoughtfully through the Doctor’s blood. He laughed at some private joke, and something rustled at the Doctor’s back. “Lucky for me, you don’t have to be. Maybe I should bring your friends back in to watch this part to.”

There was the telltale slide of a zipper and the Master’s palm left the Doctor’s wreck of a back, followed by a low, pleasured groan. He had a sickening idea of what was coming, but the realization made the actuality no easier to handle. The Master took only enough time to line up and pushed in in one fell swoop. He cackled as the Doctor screamed. 

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” the Master purred against his ear, drawing back only to thrust roughly in again. It felt like being ripped apart from the inside, the stretch and tear of muscles leaving his empty stomachs threatening to upheave themselves. The Doctor trembled and sobbed despite his best efforts, but the Master was unmoved. “You deserve it, of course. You’ve hurt billions.”

Even as he was being tortured, the Doctor knew he’d forgive this too. He moaned in pain as the Master rolled his hips forward again and again, burying his cock in the Doctor’s body each time. Each thrust tugged the sharp edges of the cuffs against the Doctor’s wrists until they bled too, and the Doctor was just a bit grateful he was so underfed. At least there was nothing to retch all over the stairs. 

He wasn’t so naïve as to think this was about sex or even pleasure. The Master enjoyed it of course, groaning against his back, teeth digging viciously into his shoulder. It was power though, submission, and much as he tried to fight it, the Doctor couldn’t help but wonder if he deserved it after all. 

The world was graying at the edges, existence slowly being reduced to stuttered breaths and rhythmic agony. He could feel the Master’s pace pick up, frantic as the other Time Lord neared completion. The Doctor hurt too much to care, only relieved that maybe it was almost over. The Valiant was fading all around him, and the last thing he heard was the Master’s pleasured howl as he came before the world went entirely black and he sagged unconscious where he was held.


End file.
